I have no idea how the Internet works. How is it that I can type words onto a computer monitor that, with the touch of a key, are out there at that very second for the whole world to see (OK, 150 people, but who's counting)? There's no wire transferring the words. The words are stored somewhere, but how? Where? You can't touch them or see them as pages filed in a storage box. It's all invisible.
It's possible to instant-message somebody on the other side of the world and have a conversation in real time. Incredible.
We can do a Google search (or in my case, a Swagbucks search) and get information about any subject; of course, we must sort through it all and decide which information is from the proper source.
When I'm sick, I can hunt up my symptoms and have some idea what might possibly be wrong with me before I head to the doctor. I've learned, though, to never mention to my doctor that I looked something up on the Internet. He'll say with a groan, "Oh yes, the INTERNET," as though it's his number one nemesis.
The World Wide Web will forever be a mystery to me. More than that, a miracle. When I was a kid, I remember wishing I could make myself invisible; now I can, because you're reading my thoughts here, but you don't see me, do you? I'm invisible!
I'd love to tell you I don't believe in the Internet because, after all, I can't touch it or see it or feel it. Surely it doesn't exist. How can it be? It isn't logical. Common sense tells me something like this is impossible. I wonder if anybody has ever published a book explaining why the Internet isn't real. If such a book existed, I'm sure somebody would buy it and believe it. I can imagine the slogans they'd come up with: "The Internet is the Opiate of the People," for example.
But just like certain other invisible forces in my life, I know the Internet is real because I see the results of its existence every day. When I speak to it, I get the answers I'm looking for (always making sure the answers are coming from the proper source, of course).
Who Has Seen the Wind?
Neither I nor you.
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I,
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.